“The pass-word!” said Basil, in a tone of surprise.
“Ay, the pass-word! Ye see, Sergeant Clinker says to me, ‘Now, Saunders, if ony ane comes to you that canna say Balgownie, ye’re to keep him and bring him to me.’ Sae, for as weel’s I like you, Master Basil, ye canna pass without it.”
“Balgownie, then,” said Basil laughing.
Hackit turned on his heel, saying it was “vera satisfactory,” when Granehard remembered that he had got a similar injunction; wherefore, making shift to steady himself a little by leaning on his arquebuss, he delivered himself thus:—
“Beloved brethren,—I mean young man,—I, even I, have also received a commandment from ancient Snuffgrace, saying, ‘Thou shalt abstain from wine and strong drink; and whosoever cometh unto thee that cannot give the pass, Tiglathpeleser, thou shalt by no means allow him to escape, otherwise thou shalt be hanged on a tree, as was the bloody Haman, the son of Hammedatha, the Agagite.’ Wherefore, now, repeat unto me the word—the light of the moon is darkened—another cup, Sandie—woe to the Man of Sin—a fearsome barking—dumb dogs—Malachi——” And he sank down in a state of complete and helpless intoxication.
Basil earnestly advised Hackit and his companions to return immediately to their posts, and retraced his steps to the camp, as the reader may judge, not excessively gratified with the issue of the night’s adventure.
Chapter IV.
With forkis and flales they lait grit flappis,
And flang togedder lyk freggis,
With bougars of barnis they best blew kappis,